


Sleepwalking

by spookyscaryskeletons (Buttons15)



Series: bubbline [2]
Category: Adventure Time
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 14:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19832458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttons15/pseuds/spookyscaryskeletons
Summary: "Bonnie’s love felt like the opposite of what books and old rock songs had taught Marceline – rather than a flame, it was a mountain – solid, immovable, terrifying in its resolution yet soothing because of how steadfast it was. Never a flicker of doubt or a twinge of uncertainty."in which marceline tries and fails to ignore her half-demon needs, and bonnie is hell-bent on figuring them out(it's honestly just fluff where everything goes right and everyone is happy)





	Sleepwalking

It wasn’t really the pain that woke her, but rather the sound of Bonnie’s strangled yelp of distress. Marceline opened her eyes –

The first thing she noticed was the smell of charred flesh – her flesh, she knew instinctually. And _then_ she noticed the pain. Her skin was on fire. She shielded her eyes from the offending rays of sunlight, the flesh on her arm sizzling and smoking, and tried to back away and look for shelter, even though she was apparently right in the middle of the Candy Kingdom’s streets –

Bonnie threw a heavy trench coat over her, covering her entirely, and Marceline was for once grateful for the princess’ weird taste in clothing. A second later, her skin stitched back together and the pain subsided, replaced by a creeping sense of panic that made her feel out of air even though she only breathed out of habit.

“Bon, what’s – did – I”

She heard footsteps and could all but picture the agitated banana guards surrounding her.

“I got her, guys,” Bonnie snuck a hand between the cloth and Marceline reached out, interlacing their fingers. A small line of sunshine leaked through the opening, steadily burning at a section of her skin that quickly recovered, but Marceline didn’t feel like releasing her grip, so she endured it. “It’s okay, Marce,” the whisper would be inaudible to most beings, meant for her sensitive hearing only. “No one got hurt.”

The relief that overtook her nearly brought tears to her eyes. She let Bonnie lead her back to the safety of the castle. Once the trench coat had been removed, they made their way to the bedroom. As soon as she heard the door being locked behind her, she knew what was coming.

“Marceline, this is the third time this week. This is getting out of hand.”

Part of her – though she wasn’t sure whether it was the demon, human or vampire part – absolutely hated being cornered like that. Probably all three parts of her. But she also knew there was truth to Bonnie’s words, and they had to do something about her sleepwalking.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she said, her tone apologetic even as she spoke a lie. She might not have been sure, but she did have a notion of what could be causing the episodes. “It’s – it’s a demon thing,” she conceded, because she was too scared of what she could do to deny Bonnie the truth.

Bonnie sat down on the bed and pulled her by the wrist. Marceline let herself float over. “A demon thing?”

She sighed. There were memories she dreaded unearthing, a lot of them, but those of her teenage years were by far the worst ones. “When my… my half-demon nature began to show, in my teens, I used to do it all the time. Dream of sucking souls, and wake up to find I’d –” she stopped then, broke eye contact. Bonnie was smart enough to fill in the gap.

“Hey, it’s okay,” She felt arms wrap around her frame, and let Bonnie pull her down the soft mattress. “You haven’t lost control in what, a good six –”

“Days?”

“ _Centuries,_ Marceline. Things done to save me from an evil ancient chaos god don’t count.”

Bonnie snuck a hand behind her ear and rubbed the sweet spot that made Marceline let out an involuntary sound, something between a purr and a growl. She felt herself relax at the touch, despite the impulse to snarl. It felt nice. Or it made her want to bite. She wasn’t sure which. 

“I don’t know, Bon, I haven’t felt quite the same since –” Bonnie’s thumb brushed against her jaw. She snarled, then took a deep breath and tried again. “ – since – ah, dammit,” she snarled again, this time clenching her teeth, “ – since the whole... candy golem and Marshmeline deal.”

Silence. Between the two of them, there was enough guilt about that incident to fuel the Fire Kingdom’s core for a century. She would have voiced the thought, but she didn’t want to give Bonnie any more crazy ideas.

“We should probably talk about those last couple weeks, shouldn’t we?” Bonnie’s hand had stopped, and Marceline nudged her palm with the tip of her nose to have her resume her caress. Bonnie smiled. “Marcy, for all it counts, I’m sorry. I was out of control then, but I’m – trying. I really am.”

“I know,” she acknowledged, then closed her eyes when Bonnie moved her fingers to Marceline’s nape. “Sometimes you donk up, but that one _really_ wasn’t your fault. If anything, it was on me. Finn and Jake were away and I was the one supposed to look after you but I just –”

“Stop that thought right there.” She felt something warm on her skin. When she opened her eyes, Bonnie was close enough that her warm breath could be felt. She smelled of sugar and pink and joy, and it was one of the most comforting scents Marceline knew. “I meant for everything. I knew how you felt about war and I still… I still pushed it against my uncle.”

“He wanted you dead right to his very last breath, I’ll give you that.”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is I could have tried harder. Looked for another solution. Finn did it when I didn’t, and I’m sorry.” A pause. “I regret it. I’m not used to regretting things. I usually don’t. But the things that hurt you, I… I always end up regretting those.”

Marceline groaned, a pit of unsolved emotions boiling inside her and flowing up from her stomach, burning her throat like lava. “Can’t we just… put that all behind us and never think about it again?” She looked at Bonnie with pleading eyes.

“Not when it’s making you sleepwalk to your sunny doom.”

She rubbed her eyes. She was tired, and Bonnie was massaging her shoulders in a way that made her want to melt. Or bite. She still wasn’t sure which. “Maybe you can just tie me down or something.”

“You shapeshift, Marceline, and I’m not shackling you in silver every morning. You were lucky you were just walking today. Sometimes you float straight out of the window and I need to call Finn and Jake to fetch you.”

“Demon thing,” she repeated, her eyelids drooping. “Happens when unmet demon impulse,” she mumbled, then realized when Bonnie stiffened that she had spoken too much.

“Demon impulse? I don’t think… I don’t think souls are what this is about. You crossed plenty of them and didn’t attack anyone. And I thought you didn’t hunger for them after the vampires –”

“I don’t!” She replied a bit too quick, sitting up. It made her head spin and did nothing to calm Bonnie down. “I don’t know –” but she did know, and so she shook her head instead. “I just. I don’t want to talk about it, okay? There’s no danger to you or the candy people.”

“There are dangers to yourself!” Bonnie sat too, grabbed her by the shoulders. “Marceline, what is it? Why won’t you let me help?”

 _It’s you,_ she thought but didn’t say. She sighed, then forced a half-smile. “I don’t know if there’s anything you can do to help, Bon. Tell you what. I think… I think maybe if I spend a little time in the Nightosphere it might get a bit better, yeah? Connect to my demon roots. Figure things out.”

Bonnie fell back on the bed, staring at the roof. “If you think it’s for the best.”

Something inside her chest squeezed. Anguish was perhaps the one thing she seemed able to feel on her undead heart. She lied back down. “It might be. Just for a week or so, yeah? I can’t stand dad for that long anyway. I’ll have the boys watch over you.”

“I can take care of myself.” Her tone had no real edge to it, but it made Marceline flinch anyway.

“I know, Bon, I just…” _Have a need to protect you. It’s stronger than me. It’ll drive me insane if I don’t._ “I just couldn’t stand to lose you again.” The words hung heavy in the air. She saw Bonnie frown, and her gut ropes could tell exactly what she was thinking about. “Bon –”

“Is that why you did it? Why you let yourself become candy?”

“I –” Silence. She had no words to explain it.

Bonnie pressed their foreheads together. “That’s not healthy, Marceline. You know if I’m gone, I’d want you to move on. After trying to bring me back, of course. Your bestest, most valiant attempt at resurrection.”

She smiled, but Marceline didn’t smile back. “I can’t move on from you, Bon. I can’t.”

“Marcy –”

“No, you don’t get it, I really can’t,” She babbled, then pressed her lips shut, cursing at herself. “It’s a demon thing,” she mumbled, then shook her head. “Bon, please. I’ll go tonight. Can’t we just… enjoy some time together before I do?”

Bonnie frowned, and Marceline saw the protest in her eyes, waited for the argument and the demands. Instead, there was a sigh. “Okay.” Bonnie pressed her lips to Marceline’s, briefly, then pulled her to her chest.

 _She really did change,_ Marceline thought, then curled up around her, pressing lips to her shoulder. Bonnie rested her chin on top of Marceline’s scalp and hummed – a pre-mushroom war song in German about pine trees. Marceline had half a mind to ask her where she’d learned that, but she didn’t want to interrupt.

Bonnie’s fingers ran down her spine, making her shiver, and stopped at the small of her back, rubbing a soft spot over her sacrum that made her muscles relax and her breathing even out and slow down –

Marceline growled, then bit the soft muscle above Bonnie’s collarbone. She tasted of warmth and happiness.

“Hey!” Bonnie protested with no real anger, then rolled on top of her, tangling fingers on her hair, and pressed their lips together again, aggressively this time. “All snarly today, aren’t we?”

Marceline smiled, feeling her fangs slide out as heat pooled in her belly. “Can’t help it around you, Bon.”

It was truer than she wished.

* * *

Demons were creatures of vice, and in the Nightosphere, Marceline had the opportunity to succumb to it, to take the lid off the pressure pan that was her half-blood existence and just give in to her impulses for a while. Her father didn’t mind – quite the contrary, it was restraint rather than indulgence that bewildered him – and took her visits with great delight, if a little pushiness.

It bothered her, though, the things she’d end up doing there, and so she could only take so much of that hedonism before she began to feel guilty over her admittedly selfish and sometimes downright cruel actions. The vices demons succumbed to were many – all of them, really – and because they couldn’t die, they didn’t hold back in their revelries. 

They ate more than they needed, they tore one another apart in visceral outbursts of rage and they had shameless, sometimes public sex in giant orgies. They would hoard and lie and murder and generally engage in all sorts of chaotic if not downright evil activity. And despite that, or perhaps because of it, demons were also creatures of immutable, unbreakable rules. And half-human or not, Marceline still felt the compulsion to abide by those norms.

A demon only had one favorite food, and getting between a demon and their food was a capital offense that could spark feuds for hundreds of years, as it did between Marceline and her father. A demon could have many talents, but they’d only have one obsession, which could range from common things like sex, to quirky ones like collecting bottlecaps, to artistical ones like painting.

Not giving in to their obsession for too long would drive them a little mad, like it did with Marceline when she spent too long without singing or playing an instrument. Mortals would name a demon after their obsession, more often than not, and Marceline had more than once considered calling herself a music demon.

Demons had rules, too, regarding blood pacts and challenging one another for fights to the death – although that only really meant they’d return to the void to reform and return years later. They had rules about eating and talking and socializing and demons even had rules about rules, although most of the nitpicky ones were overridden by a much simpler rule of combat: they would duke it out, and the winner got to dictate the norm. It was no surprise that her father thrived like he did – in a mix of bureaucracy, paperwork and brutal violence.

Most jarring of all, though obvious, demons had rules about love – because they did love, as weirdly as they could. And while they were liberal about the pleasures of the flesh when single, a demon would only ever take one mate, of which they were highly protective of, if not sometimes possessive. Demon-on-demon love was easy. Demon-on-anything-else love wasn’t.

Marceline rubbed her face with her palms and walked, trying to purge the anxiety from inside her through her sweat. The first time she’d summoned her dad, it had been with the help of a couple friends – a pair of werewolf siblings which Hunson killed on the spot when he set foot in Ooo.

Later, when Marceline him took to the werewolf pack to make amends, he wiped them out as well. She didn’t think he could help himself, and it taught her a hard lesson – demons mostly animals with a semblance of sentience, which meant she was a bit wild herself.

And for a while she had a pretty good grip, but vampires too were essentially wildlife, which meant Marceline went from a half-half creature to someone whose essence was mostly beast, and her instincts got really hard to control. She suppressed her need for blood and souls on raw willpower, but that left her with little energy to suppress her desires for everything else.

Nothing could get between Marceline and her fries, and nothing sane should interrupt her when on a music high, and she really wished that was enough but when she was around Bonnie it was glaringly obvious that it wasn’t. She wanted the proper bond, the permanent branding of their souls that could only be achieved through a pact, she wanted it etched on her skin –

“Bonnie,” She froze at the gates of her father’s palace, blinking in shock, then made a run for it. “What are you doing here?” She hissed, a hint of anger seeping into her tone. “Are you insane? Do you have any idea –”

There was a flash of rage on Bonnibel’s face that made her freeze on the spot and instantly wish she could eat her words back. “It’s been over a _month,_ Marceline. I was worried.” She waited for more, for anger and harsh words, but Bonnie stepped back then, her expression breaking into concern. Somehow, that was a thousand times worse.

“I’m –” she had angry words to throw, but they deflated in the face of Bonnie’s uncharacteristically soft, almost docile approach. “ – I’m sorry.” She clenched and unclenched her fist, “I’ll come back. I promise. I –” _always come back to you I can’t help it_ “– just need to figure myself out, I think.”

“You – ” It felt accusatory, but then Bonnie immediately cut herself short, took a long moment to think, then sighed. “I just miss you,” she broke eye contact. Marceline’s heart did a flip. “I brought you snacks from the surface. You always complain about how all Nightosphere reds taste the same.”

 _She’s trying,_ Marceline was acutely aware, despite how hard she tried to mute her empathy. _She’s trying so hard and she came to literal hell to bring you comfort and you’re here moping like some spoiled child – like your damn father would – because you just can’t get over yourself –_

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, closing the distance between them and pulling Bonnie into a hug. She took a strawberry from the packed lunch and drained it of its color, feeling warmth seep into her fingertips. Drinking red was strangely spiritual in that it satisfied both her blood and her soul craving, and whenever she sucked an object, she could always feel the taste of its past.

Bonnie had strawberry farms, just like she had chocolate farms and candy corn farms to provide her with materials for her experiments, culinary or otherwise. But the strawberries she saved for Marceline were always the ones she deemed perfect through whatever bogus science she used to process the fruits, and that’s what made them taste amazing – not the immaculate fruits themselves, but the intention behind it. The love behind the act.

Her heart ached.

Bonnie grabbed her hand. “Come home, Marcy.”

She took a deep breath. “Three more days,” she said, and squeezed her fingers. “Three more days and I’ll be back, Bon. I promise.”

Bonnie dropped her gaze for a moment, then lifted her eyes back at Marcy. “All right. Do you mind if I stay?”

The question surprised her. “What about the Candy Kingdom?”

“Aunt Lolly is looking after it. She does a pretty good job, and the fact that one of us can look after both kingdoms for a while means we get to take vacations every now and then.”

Marceline tossed the colorless strawberry into a pit of magma and took Bonnie’s hand. “Aren’t you worried she’ll… try to take over everything?”

Bonnie interlaced their fingers and pulled her hand. They broke into a walk towards the palace. “Why would she? It’s nonsensical. She knows I’ll just be back with my human squire, his half-alien brother and my demon queen mate. Hard to stand up against that, and she’d lose her vacations arrangement to boot.”

Marceline choked on air. “What did you just call me?”

Bonnie tilted her head. “Demon queen –”

They heard it together – a hiss and a roar, then the sound of rippling air as a demon approached them. Marceline reacted on instinct, putting herself between the creature and Bonnie, a second row of sharp teeth cutting through her gums, forked tongue peeking between them. The demon took a semblance of shape before them, the edges of its figure blurring into shadows.

It held something in its hands – a strange fruit made from smoke, probably collected in a dark corner of the Nightosphere. Marceline set her jaw, forcing the teeth to melt back into her mouth so she could speak. “I’m not interested,” she said, then spat a splotch of stale blood on the floor, wiping the corner of her mouth with her sleeve.

The demon stood perfectly still for a moment, so much that she could almost see its edges. She knew what came next, and so she willed her body into a more hostile shape, barely registering the pain as claws protruded from her fingertips, slick with her own cold blood. And then, much to her surprise, the creature shook its head, took a step to the side and offered the fruit not to her, but to Bonnie.

It took her brain a good two minutes to process it. “You’re kidding me,” Marceline hissed, her hairs standing on end, her tone dripping with hostility and danger. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Bonnibel, step back, I’m going to rip this bastard to shreds for the _nerve –”_

Bonnie frowned and did the exact opposite of what she was told, walking closer to the demon.

“Bonnie!” she snapped, “Do you even know what this means? It’s –”

“Propositioning me,” Bonnie interrupted, and Marceline opened her mouth but found no reply, taken aback by her response. She knew logically that of all people, Bonnibel was perhaps the single most likely person to do research on demon culture, but that knowledge didn’t quite translate into the scene she was watching unfold. “I am quite aware, Marceline.” She turned to the demon. “Thank you. I am honored by your attention, but I have no interest in taking you up at the moment.”

And _then_ the demon attacked, almost faster than Marceline could react, but Bonnie, once again full of surprises, was more than prepared. It lunged, but she sidestepped and buried something where the creature’s heart would have been. It shouldn’t have been a fatal blow at all, except the demon fell anyway, withering, fire and smoke coming out from the wound as it backed away, until it gave a final wail and dissolved into ashes.

Marceline blinked, too dazed to understand. “Was that… a demon blood switchblade?”

Bonnie flickered the weapon in question, spinning it on her palm. “It’s an alloy. Obsidian and silver tempered in demon blood. Good for ghosts, centaurs, werewolves, whywolves, elementals of all types, demons, ogres, giants, trolls and probably some other things I haven’t attempted to kill with it yet.”

 _Bonnibel Bubblegum, always so prepared._

She looked at the blade. It positively hissed at her. Bonnie’s eyes widened then, and she was quick to put it away. “Um. Not meant for you, of course, though I did get it made when that whole mess with the vampires went down. It… probably sounds like something meant to kill a demon-vampire creature but it’s actually something meant to kill… pretty much any paranormal creature.” She rubbed her face with her palm. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. What I meant to say was, I trust you, Marcy, I really do, and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Marceline looked up at where the sky should have been and saw only fire. “If I told you to destroy it – to toss it in a pit of magma right now, would you do it?”

“In a heartbeat,” Bonnie replied, reaching into her bag.

Marceline grabbed her wrist and looked into her eyes, searching for answers to the hundreds of questions bubbling under the surface of her mind that she didn’t quite have the courage to ask. “Keep it. You’re in the Nightosphere after all. It’s good that you have the means to fend for yourself.” She stared at the ashes, being carried away by a directionless wind. “You can stay. Just…” _She literally just slayed a demon right under your nose, Marceline._ But the impulse was stronger than her will. “Just be careful. Please. It’s a hostile place. Don’t trust anyone, not even dad. Particularly not dad.”

The softness in Bonnie’s eyes was something reserved to Marceline only, and she knew it, and it never failed to bring a blush to her cheeks. “Noted. Maybe, if you’re up to it, you can help me collect some samples for an experiment tomorrow?”

She let her palm slide back into Bonnie’s, back to where they were before they were so rudely interrupted, back to where they belonged. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Great! I just wanted some rock samples to analyze – I’m thinking perhaps some things about their composition, the way they mutate and change shapes so easily, maybe I could use that to make malleable yet resistant candy for –”

Marceline smiled, and led the way back, and let her nerd ramble on.

* * *

She grabbed the vicious, fire spitting assassin and held his hands behind his back. “Banana guards, silver shackles, please,” Marceline commanded. A moment later, the creature – it was hard to define what it was or where it came from – went still as its shape stabilized.

The attempts on Bonnie’s life were many and came from various directions, and Marceline was used to doing night patrols around the kingdom when the princess was asleep. Foreign powers, oddly enough, were nearly never responsible for those. Rather they came from wizards, or gangsters, or thieves, or sometimes crazy loners with a bone to pick. And rejected males, of course. She got rejected males a lot.

That an assassin managed to get on the bedroom at all was exceedingly rare, not because of the not-so-smart banana guards, bless their stupid souls, but because the way to Bonnie’s chambers was lined with so many traps, it would take a real genius to get past all of them. So when Marceline went out at night to comb the streets of the Candy Kingdom for daring idiots with a death wish, she did it mostly for sport.

Marceline stared down at the little creature. She had an impulse to destroy it, but she knew it would be counter-productive to do so. It seemed like a fire kingdom envoy, but she knew despite their rocky relationship at first, Bonnie and Phoebe were on really good, perhaps even friendly terms. More likely than not this was the work of one of her evil uncles, or evil cousins, or a relapse into evil from her dad. She rubbed her temples with her fingers. Bonnie would see through it and know how to handle it.

She frowned when she realized they’d been in silence for quite a while and the banana guards were staring at her, expectation clear in their eyes. “Guys?” She tilted her head. One of the guards stepped forward.

“Other mom, we were wondering what to do with him now.”

Marceline’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “I –” _did that banana just call me mom did that banana –_ “Take him,” she sputtered, “To, um. The dungeons. To one of the silver-glass cells. He’ll break out otherwise.”

They nodded sheepishly and broke into a run, escorting the criminal while imitating sirens with their voices – something Marceline would never not find cute.

Her mind was reeling. She floated up to Bonnie’s room, entered through the window as per usual. It was the only entrance to the room that had no traps or alarms to it, but it was also the entrance used by a terrifying demon-vampire queen – namely herself – and she had yet to meet anyone who had the nerve to attempt to use that.

Bonnie was asleep under pink covers, drooling. Marceline considered waking her, but the princess hardly got any rest and it seemed like a crime to interrupt her. She sat down on the mattress and snuck under the covers as quietly as she could muster. Bonnie stirred anyway, turning to her, a hand wrapping around Marceline’s waist.

“Bon,” she whispered, because it was eating at her and she couldn’t help it.

“Mm?”

“One of your bananas just called me mom. Well, ‘other mom’. I’m presuming you are mom number one.”

Bonnie lifted her head from the pillow, her brow furrowed in a frown, eyes still squinting from sleep. “Huh. I suppose that makes sense.” Her head flopped back into the mess of soft linen.

Marceline stared up at the roof. Bonnie moved closer, rested her head on Marceline’s chest. “What does that even mean?”

Bonnie groaned. “I’m their mom. We’re together. They’re simple people, Marcy.”

“So in their eyes does that make me princess or something?” She sat up, her head filled with too many questions.

Bonnie propped herself up on her elbow and rubbed her eyes with her palm. Marceline felt a twinge of guilt for rousing her from her sleep. “It makes you _other princess,_ I’d presume,” she replied in a sly tone. Marceline’s distress must have shown on her face, because Bonnie broke into snorts.

“How do they even know that? Do candy people… gossip?!”

“They do gossip. You’d be surprised.” Bonnie crawled forward and rested her head on Marceline’s lap. Marceline placed a hand on the thin strands of gum that made up her hair and stroked her scalp. “But no, in this case, it was I who told them.”

“You told the candy people we’re together? That, um. That sounds official.”

“Marce,” Bonnie whined, almost begged, and just her tone was enough to bring a blush to Marceline’s cheeks. “It’s two in the morning. You’re overthinking this.”

“Okay, okay,” She closed her eyes and counted to ten. She drummed her fingers on Bonnie’s head. She twitched her toes.

Bonnie sighed. “Just ask the question that is on your mind so you can stop fidgeting and let me sleep.”

She didn’t even pretend to be uninterested. She spoke so fast it almost came out as one of those long german words Bonnie was so fond of. “Why-did-you-tell-the-candy-people-we-are-together?”

“Because I wanted them to love you as much as they love me. As much as I love you.” Her voice was far too nonchalant for such impactful words. “Can I sleep now?”

Marceline clutched at her chest with the hand that wasn’t busy with Bonnie. “Yeah, um, okay. I’ll let you rest.”

“Sing me a lullaby, then,” she gripped the corners of Marceline’s shirt. “Least you can do after waking me up for silly questions.”

“Yeah, of course, I’m sorry.” her fingers began a rhythmic movement, as if strumming her bass, and she sung.

* * *

Under the light of the full moon, the crumpled note in her pocket would have been easy to read even if Marceline did not have night vision. She’d checked it a hundred times, if only to make sure of the instructions. Bonnie wanted a midnight picnic. Bonnie wanted her to bring spaghetti. Seemed simple enough, but Marceline could be forgetful.

Marceline held the package of pasta with the utmost care, as if it had cost her a limb, which it nearly had. She could have gotten any pasta – it wasn’t a special occasion, she’d checked the calendar several times – but _any_ of her dates with Bonnie felt special, and she still got cold feet over things as silly as what to wear, let alone what to bring.

Bonnie wanted spaghetti, so Marceline would provide. She’d cooked it herself – she was quite good in the kitchen, despite not being able to eat – with pasta she made from scratch out of eggs and flour, and meatballs she harvested from a meatball-demon-tree in the Nightosphere.

‘Harvested’ being a soft word for it. She’d fought the demon for them. To the death. They said those were the best meatballs one could taste. They said they were good enough to grant those who ate them a glimpse of the future. And just like Bonnie always got her the best strawberries, Marceline was determined to get her the very best pasta that the lands of Ooo and beyond could possibly give birth to. 

Though she did almost get maimed in the fight, it also felt immensely good to retrieve them. She liked fighting things, and she liked Bonnie, and she liked fighting things for Bonnie. It was satisfying to assert her dominance over other demons. She stared at the package as she floated towards her destination. It tasted good, she was quite certain, and she was proud of her work.

Bonnie was exactly where she said she would be – sitting under a tree, tinkering with yet another device that did gods-knew-what. She looked stunning, offbeat fashion sense notwithstanding, and Marceline suddenly felt underdressed. She soothed herself with the knowledge that Bonnie wouldn’t care.

“I, um,” She greeted, feeling awkward and a little stupid. “I brought the spaghetti.”

Bonnie smiled. She sat on top of a checkered tablecloth, red and white, on top of which sat a small box and the machine she’d been previously toying with. _Odd,_ Marceline caught herself thinking. She should have brought drinks at least, and though she supposed she could snack on the picnic towel, Bonnie usually thought out the reds she offered Marceline with great care.

_Unless –_

Her dress was red, too. Marceline shoved the thought to the back of her mind. “Bon?”

“Take a seat, Marcy.”

She did as she was told, frowning, gently resting the spaghetti between them. “Um…”

“You know I love you, right?” The moonlight on her skin gave it an exquisite pink glow. Marceline’s heart felt as if it might restart beating at any second. “And despite our… hundred-or-so year break, we’ve been together for a long while.”

A cold, creeping sensation squeezed a cold claw over her chest. She was anxious in general, and sensitive to abandonment, and overall terrified of situations that spiraled out of her control, like this one was starting to. “Are you going to propose to me?” she joked, trying to shake the weight off.

“Hm. Not quite yet, though I suppose in a way this counts. For your people, at least, it seems to hold more value than a wedding. We could get married sooner rather than later, but…” She stared off into the distance, “The Candy Kingdom is still rebuilding, and the paperwork would be a nightmare.”

If Marceline wasn’t undead, she would have died of cardiac arrest right then. “Bon, this isn’t funny.”

Bonnie tilted her head. “It isn’t meant to be.” She reached out into the small box and pulled something out – a package of red fries. “I made those,” She explained, holding them with care. “It took me a while to convert the crispness into color, but here it is. They’re uneven shades of red, see? So it should mimic the crunchy texture. And I’ve imbued it with the strongest memories of the taste-of-fries. It ought to be pretty close to how you remember them.”

“You made me fries,” She stared, flabbergasted, too stunned to even take them. “You made me fries and I made you spaghetti and – oh my Glob, Bon, ohmyglobohmy –” The realization hit her like a freight truck. She was hyperventilating.

Bonnie frowned. “We don’t have a great skyfire in Ooo save for the sun, and you can’t touch that, so I figured the full moon was the next best thing.”

“You’re – this is. This is a demon mating ritual. A pact.” She touched the lid of her picnic box, fingers shaking. “We exchange our favorite foods under light of a spiritual source. You’re – you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You planned this.”

“I’d be offended if you thought otherwise,” Bonnie casually stretched, then kicked off her shoes. “I do my research, Marceline, you know that.”

“But do you know what this _means,_ ” she insisted, and now her fingers were shaking and her skin felt clammy.

“Of course.” Bonnie looked up at the moon. “At first I was just reading up on demon culture so I could figure out… what urge was causing you to sleepwalk. Did I get it right?” Silence. Bonnie took it as a cue to continue. “Figured as much. And so it seemed like a… simple solution to the problem, but the more I read on it, the more I realized it went deeper than just that. Deeper even than a marriage. This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

Marceline was speechless, so she could only nod. Bonnie reached out and took her hand. “I figured you’d never ask. You’re all weird and shy about your non-human sides. So I considered it carefully. I read up on it. I weighted down the pros and cons. Do you know what I realized then, Marcy?”

“That it’s stupid to bind a demon to your person forever?”

Bonnie smiled. “That, too.” She extended her legs. “But mostly I realized that I don’t really care. It feels right. So, you know, whatever. Let’s do it. Consequences be damned.”

“Who are you and what have you done to Bonnie?”

“I almost lost you twice,” she turned, made eye contact. “I’m not going for a third. I thought about letting you know, but I wanted to make it a surprise. You can, uh, take your time to think about it, of course.”

“You should have told me,” she mumbled, “Cause I was supposed to cook you a special meal, too.”

“Didn’t you?”

 _I did_ , she realized. _I do, every single time._ “Um. Yes.”

Bonnie pulled her hand, bringing her closer. “Then we have all we need. Are you ready for this?”

Was she? She had mixed feelings about it. Part of her, a big part of her, had been craving this moment for centuries, even when the two were apart. Demons only ever had one mate, and her heart had picked Bonnie before she ever had a chance to choose for herself. Another part of her was scared of it – the vulnerability it entailed, the amount of power over her she would grant to someone else.

But that someone wasn’t a stranger, it was Bonnie, the person she’d loved for long enough that entire species had risen and fallen while her feelings remained unchanged. And while she’d never go as far as saying she _knew_ Bonnie, for the two were just too different to allow that kind of deep comprehension, she would trust her with several things, her life included.

Marceline definitely wanted it, there was no doubt, but right then what held her back wasn’t fear but rather something much more insidious and crueler. It was shame. Shame of something she couldn’t even begin to explain, because it was rooted in events so ancient, not even Bonnie would know about them. “Bon, I…”

“You’re not comfortable with your demon nature or things pertaining to it,” Bonnie guessed, and Marceline found herself reassessing her statement about knowing each other. “You’ve never been. Nor with your vampire side. You always seem so… terrified of yourself. It took me forever to have you sleep with me, remember?”

“Because I sucked you of your red on the second night!” She hissed, and like a water dam breaking down, she felt the emotions go out of control and flood her, making the tips of her ears burn and her eyes tear up. “I don’t give in to those things for good reason, Bon! Bad things happen when I do. I hurt people I care about.”

“You did suck the red out of me quite a few times,” She shrugged. “That was fine. I had my mind and body ready for the possibility. You know me,” she smirked. “Always so prepared. This is no different, Marcy. We’re…” She took a moment to think, “We’re intellectual equals, you and I. Um, equals in other things as well, I suppose. The point is, if that’s the next step of our relationship, then we can face it together like we always have.”

“Bon…” she trailed off, and told herself not to be a wimp and not to cry.

Bonnie grabbed her other hand and squeezed both of them, looking deep into her eyes. “I’m yours when and if you’ll have me, Marceline.”

“You know,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. It wasn’t helpful that she just kept weeping. “This looked cooler in my head.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’d get around to asking you one day, or so I hoped,” she smiled, tears flowing between her lips and filling her mouth with a salty taste. “Preferably after I’d taken over the Nightosphere. There would be pyrokinetic displays and demons on diapers playing harps and all sorts of food involved. I’d ask you through a song or something. I don’t know. I didn’t picture myself crying like a big baby for sure.” 

“I could have arranged some fireworks, but I figured you’d like a more private display,” Bonnie touched her face, trailed her thumbs over the tear tracks until they were dry. “Maybe tomorrow, if you want it.”

She leaned into Bonnie’s hand so it cupped her cheek. “No, this is perfect.” She felt fingers move up her jaw and behind her ear and snarled when they rubbed the sensitive skin just right. It would have been more intimidating if she wasn’t still sniffling.

“Then allow me to formally put forward my request,” Bonnie sat up straight and pulled a string of silver wire from her pocket. “Marceline Abadeer, will you partake this meal with me, and in doing so, will you bind yourself to me as is the way of your kind?”

“I – ” She shivered. Her throat felt sore. Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’d like that very much.”

“And will you carry the mark of me in your soul and in your skin, and allow me to carry the mark of you in return?”

“Yes,” she replied, more confident this time. “I will.”

“Then under the under the silver light of the moon above us,” the way she talked without hesitating made Marceline certain she’d not only adapted the ritual text but practiced it, “May we be joined as… demon-vampire-human and candy person, and may the Nameless One bless our union.”

Bonnie extended her pinky finger, and Marceline did the same so that they touched. Then Bonnie wrapped the silver string around them, making a loop then two then three. It burned against Marceline’s skin, a stabbing pain that travelled all the way up her arm. “ _Maloso vobiscum,”_ Bonnie said, and looked up at her.

 _“Et cum spiritu tuo,”_ she completed, sealing the deal.

The silver string snapped in two, hissing, and one half of it penetrated through Marceline’s skin. It was the worst pain she’d felt in a long while, making sunburns seem like child’s play. She saw it travel up her arm, a moving path of smoke and welted skin that immediately healed behind it, deeper and deeper into her skin until it was inside her, diving into her bloodstream.

Her heart beat when it reached her, once, agony enough that it made her eyes water, and then the silver traveled back to her arm and shoulder, where it resurfaced and took shape, bubbling through muscle and soft tissue until it reached her skin and finally, blissfully, exited her body and dissipated into air. She ran her fingers over the exit point, where a blackened scar was already forming.

“This was unexpectedly painful,” Bonnie muttered, looking at her own arm. “Are you okay? It hurt a lot more to you than to me, I’m sure, what with the silver and all.”

“Hurt like a bitch,” she whimpered, breathing ragged, but her healing had already kicked in and the pain was quickly fading. When her eyes met Bonnie’s, she felt like her heart was going to explode. She was once again rendered speechless.

Bonnie, bless her curious soul, immediately filled in the silence. “I didn’t expect this to work,” she ran her fingers over her shoulder, “So I had a back up plan.” She turned her eyes to the odd machine she’d been tinkering with. “See, that’s Ooo’s first candy-tattoo-machine. Figured I’d use it to show my commitment if the whole silver-branding didn’t stick to my skin. A pity I won’t get to test it. Maybe I should get a tattoo anyway. The molecular structure of sugar or something of the sort.”

“Bon,” she managed, still staring, still shaking. “Don’t you feel any different?”

“Hm?” Bonnie tilted her head. “I feel like my entire worldview just shifted and now you’re the single most important thing in my life. You already were, I mean,” She shrugged. The nonchalance in which she spoke was baffling. “But now I’m constantly aware of it. Filled with altruistic impulses, too, and what I assume are emotional reports on your state of spirt. It’s nice. A bit like how it was when I was in the Mother Gum. Comforting. Like I’ll never be alone again.” She looked at her shoulder again, poked the mark with her finger. “Do you think I could get a biopsy of this? I wonder what it looks like under a microscope.”

“Um, uh, sure,” she blinked. “Should grow back even if you remove it entirely.” Marceline shook her head to clear it. “We, uh, we should eat. I’m starving and the food will get cold if we don’t – ouch!”

Bonnie stared at her, pinching a bit of pink skin between her fingers. “You really do feel my pain? Books said you would.”

Marceline rubbed her face with her palm. She had too many feelings and it was hard to think. “Yeah, uh, that’s a thing. Shared senses. Really strong on the night of the pact, should fade into minor sensations for most situations save for those with strong emotional influence.”

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Do it!”

Marceline closed her eyes. A moment later, she felt something tingle on her right toe.

“Feel this?” Bonnie queried. 

She couldn’t help but smile. “Right toe.”

“And this?”

“Left ear.”

“And this?”

“Trick question. You’re not touching anything.” Marceline opened her eyes, but Bonnie covered them with a pink hand.

“Pay attention. Come on.”

She frowned, but did as she was told, focusing on any different sensation she could discern. Her senses were already heightened, and it could be hard to pick out new input under a sea of her own perceptions.

And then it hit her, suddenly, not a physical feeling but rather an emotion that was alien in its linearity and structure yet familiar at its core, and she grabbed Bonnie’s wrist and moved it from her eyes because she needed to _see_ –

Bonnie smirked, smug, strands of pink hair obscuring part of her face, and snuck a hand under Marceline’s chin, tilting her head up. “Do you see it now? What I feel for you?”

And she did, the strange shape of it, how deep it run and how it manifested in ways she often missed. Someone had told her once, before the world went upside down, that still waters ran the deepest, and that was how Bonnie’s emotions felt like – silent, sometimes brutal in their straightforwardness, but strong enough that she could finally understand how something as simple as a band shirt had enough love attached to it to power the awakening of an ancient golem.

Bonnie’s love felt like the opposite of what books and old rock songs had taught Marceline – rather than a flame, it was a mountain – solid, immovable, terrifying in its resolution yet soothing because of how steadfast it was. Never a flicker of doubt or a twinge of uncertainty. Bonnie loved her like the sky was blue and two plus two equaled four, a feeling that was a fact, a building block of her reality itself, an anchor to the whirlwind of Marceline’s life, always there, never ever leaving her behind.

In a way, it was all she’d ever needed.

Bonnie’s lips on hers were the most wonderful sensation she’d experienced in two thousand years. She smelled of cherries and safety and being at home. “We should eat,” Bonnie suggested, lips still tracing a warm path over her neck. “Those fries were a lot of work.”

“They say the meatballs show people brief glimpses of the future,” Marceline mumbled, opening the package. “Should we bite them together?”

Bonnie smiled and tucked a stray of Marceline’s hair behind her pointy ear. “You know that’s not a logical thing. Like Cosmic Owl dreams. I don’t believe in those, either.”

“I know you don’t, Bon,” she smiled and stuck a fork to a meatball anyway.

She wasn’t sure how far into the future she saw, but they were together, and they were smiling, and like everything else in that night, it made her heart feel full and whole.

The fries were as crisp and crunchy and salty as she remembered them.

She fell asleep right there, after they were done eating and Bonnie’s warmth in her arms and slow breathing against her chest lulled her into peaceful rest. She wasn’t torched by the sun in the morning, because Bonnie’s picnic blanket doubled as an automatic, self-building tent. And a parachute. And a foldable origami airplane. And a sword. Among other things that Bonnie listed but Marceline had trouble focusing on.

“The dress is for breakfast,” Bonnie mumbled against her skin when they woke. “I had it made specifically so I could wear it for you. You better eat it.”

It tasted of love.

**Author's Note:**

> I FINISHED THE SHOW and I love my girls 
> 
> they're so cute together
> 
> I just want them to be happy 
> 
> bonnie is dense but well meaning and marcy just has anxiety 
> 
> bonnie works with her brain rather than her heart so she reacts to entire revolutions in her emotional perception with deadpan, almost scientific curiosity
> 
> meanwhile marceline alternates between panic attacks and hiding from her problems in literal hell
> 
> big mood, marce, big mood


End file.
